A Dizzying Intellect
by A Wild Padfoot
Summary: Nyssa Ford, maths whiz and book enthusiast, discovers her magical abilities and seeks to find her place in the magical world. She makes friends as she navigates this crazy new world, but soon finds that the wizarding world is far from perfect, and that magic will not make her life any easier.


Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all. I am but a humble fan seeking to explore her world.

A/N: This story was originally written in a silver and black Ravenclaw journal.

I hail from California, so Brit-pickers are welcome!

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 **Chapter 1**

 **Wednesday, August 19, 2020**

I would like to begin by pointing out that this journal is wrong. I don't mean it in a moral sense but in a factual one. Ravenclaw colours are supposed to be bronze and blue, not silver and blue. I can appreciate the aesthetic, though, as it looks a lot better than bronze would. Also, (oddly enough) the mascot of Ravenclaw is an eagle, not a raven. Counterintuitive, I know, but that's what it said in _Hogwarts, a History_. It appears credible enough, though I've noticed that due to the small population of the wizarding world, the quality of nearly everything (especially literature) is ostensibly much lower. It does appear to be one of the better books out there, though. It is a bit worrying that it doesn't explain how the Sorting of Houses is done, but that could be simply to keep the secret from first years. It's a bit unprofessional, but I'll let it slide because of my love of mystery. Now, on to the deduction.

It couldn't be a test of strength, as I've heard whispers of. I overheard some redheads talking about battling a troll, but that couldn't be, because a) no school or government body, not even magical ones, would put children's lives in danger like that, and b) that does little to Sort anybody, except for maybe Gryffindors. That, too, is dubious because even the bravest eleven-year-old wouldn't stand their ground for the sole purpose of Sorting alone. It wouldn't be an intellectual test either, because intelligent people don't go to Ravenclaw by default. People go to the House of their strongest quality, which even high intelligence may not be for some people (exhibit A, Minerva McGonagall and Hermione Granger). And you couldn't very well do a test for how well you can survey and manoeuvre a situation. No Slytherin would let on that skill. No, it's most likely some combination test of bravery, wit, cunning, and kindness, though I can't imagine what that may be. It could be—no, let's not be absurd. Not even the magical world could come up with something like that.

Whatever the test may be, it seems a bit backwards to separate people by personality traits. It sounds like an excellent way to polarize people and discourage positive traits in children. I suppose it does give people an actual reason to take pride in their house, but that has the potential to create even more bigotry, which it obviously has done. Besides, it seems like the Sorting is often wrong when it comes to Slytherins and Gryffindors. Many people with Gryffindor personality traits are placed in Slytherin (e.g. Draco Malfoy—he wouldn't know subtlety if it stabbed him in the back) and vice versa (such as Percy Weasley—betrayed his family to climb the social ladder) for no reason other than to continue legacies. Putting people like that with their traditional ways of thinking in the wrong houses is asking for trouble. If you put all the pureblood bigots in one house, regardless of their personalities, you're going to get a house of very nasty people, thus creating a stigma against the house and perpetuating pureblood power.

Anyway, I already went ahead and purchased a Ravenclaw journal because I'm 97.4% sure that's the house I'll get. Yes, I calculated it. You see, I possess what many would call a ridiculous intelligence quotient score, so that must be my strongest quality. If it isn't, I suspect I'll either be running the world or dead by suicide in the next few years. That's what always seems to happen to the Greats. Besides, Ravenclaw is my preferred house. People seem to have some sort of say over which house they get into if the legacies are any indication. If I do have any other traits in abundance, I will still choose Ravenclaw to defy house expectations. Or Hufflepuff. They seem to be an underrated bunch, which is unfortunate and not very nice. Some very powerful and influential people have come out of Hufflepuff, and it would not do to underestimate them. Although it'll be a sad waste of a journal if I do end up in Hufflepuff.

Well. I believe I've exhausted myself on that topic for now. Now that I'm done with that brief novel on house affairs, I think I'll talk a little more about my background. I'm what this world would call "Muggleborn". I was born in London to a computer scientist and a Doctor of Biochemistry (lofty title, I know, but she won't let me forget it). Being the child of two intellectuals (or as my mother would put it, one intellectual and a programmer), I was raised to be sceptical of absolutely everything, including my own magical abilities. My parents trained me to examine everything as scientifically and objectively as possible, and as such, I made sure I exhausted every possible explanation for the astounding and (apparently) inexplicable feats I had performed before turning to magic.

Doctors diagnosed with stress-induced psychosis at age six after I started talking about my tendency to levitate or mutate things when I was excited or scared. Nobody ever saw these episodes, so my protests fell on deaf ears. I went into a psych ward shortly after my diagnosis. There I met my best friend Pyra. Pyra could not be more appropriately named—she was in there for setting one too many things on fire, although she also claimed to be able to change the appearance and properties of things (much like my ability). She insisted that she hadn't wanted to set anything on fire, and swore up and down that she never touched a match or a lighter when these incidents occurred. Naturally, no one believed her. We didn't believe each other, either, but we soon became best friends.

Our first truly damning piece of evidence for magic came when we were sitting alone with Pyra's brother by a pool. He started making some very uncomfortable comments toward us and then grabbed Pyra and pulled a gun out.

* * *

[Flashback]

Pyra opened her mouth to scream, but he clapped his hand over her mouth.

"Make a noise and I'll shoot," he snarled. She fell limp.

Suddenly, their eyes widened in shock and his grip slackened. My senses exploded as I flew at his head–literally, flew. I spread my wings and attacked.

 _This is a new one,_ I thought to myself as I made for his eyes. _I wonder if this is my way of tuning out of reality when it's too scary._

Before I could claw his eyes out with the wicked talons that came with this avian form, he burst into flames. I reeled back, screeching.

As I recovered, I saw Pyra staring at him in horror, before turning on her heel and running. I flew after her, hearing a loud splash behind me.

We ran for what seemed like ages. At some point, I registered that I had legs again. We reached a park and stopped, gasping and wheezing.

"You turned into an owl!"

"You set him on fire!"

We said these at the same time and then stared at each other, mouths agape.

"...I wasn't imagining it?" I asked shakily.

"Nope, you were a bird. And I didn't _mean_ to set him on fire! I didn't even have matches or anything!"

"I saw," I told her as solemnly as a seven-year-old could.

"Do you think…?"

"Maybe. To the library!"

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A/N: And there it is! This is my first fic, so I hope you enjoyed. If you liked it, leave a comment. If you hated it, leave a comment. Your criticism will be much appreciated!

If you think Nyssa seems a bit Mary-Sueish right now, read on. I think you'll find that she doesn't have quite such an easy time with things.


End file.
